Web Complex
by LeoN WiNgsteiN
Summary: Jessica Drew, a.k.a. Spider Woman, needs a place to stay, and her teammate and ex-boyfriend Clint Barton, a.k.a. Hawkeye, happens to own an apartment building, so she moves in for a while.
1. Chapter 1

"Aw, shit," said Jessica, as she stood in the door of what was no longer her bathroom, looking into the face of a very confused middle-aged couple.

"Spider Woman?" asked the woman, edging a bit closer to her husband, her hand curling in the back of his sweater.

"Jesus Christ," she said. "Sorry, oh my God, sorry." She held up a hand, trying to explain herself, but unable to actually articulate herself. She backed into the bathroom and closed the door. She sat down on the toilet, which now held a fuzzy seat cover, and put her head in her hands. "God damn it."

She lifted her head and looked around the bathroom, noting the different shower curtain, the toilet paper rolled the other way, and the couple of toothbrushes actually in a cup and not cluttered around the rim of the sink. This wasn't her bathroom, not anymore. She stood up and slipped out through the open window onto the fire escape. From there, she leapt down to the ground, a few stories below, where she found the things that _had_ been in her apartment. The few boxes, labeled "Jessica Drew, apt. 31" were scattered in and around the green dumpster in the dirty alley.

Jess sighed and rummaged through them, found the ones with her clothes in them, and tucked them under her arms. She was thankful that she kept her more important stuff at Tony's, in a locker in the basement. She had started doing that after the first couple of times she had been evicted since joining the Avengers. A duffel bag of some mementos from her childhood with Hydra, some things from her days in England, and other personal things, in a vault under Avengers tower—just like some of the valuables of many of the Avengers. She knew that Luke Cage, at least, kept some cash stowed away for his kid's college fund.

The kink in her neck strained as she walked out of the alley, and Jessica was brought back into her actual situation. She was, technically, homeless. Again. She rummaged through one of the boxes of clothes, and brought out her phone. It was a durable flip phone, and well-suited for her lifestyle. He suit wasn't well-suited for phones, though, and it stayed behind most of the time. She held down the "end' button to turn it on, but the phone's battery was totally dry. She dropped it back into the box and looked around. She wondered who she could call on, go back to for the night at least…

Carol was out of the question. Last Jessica had heard, she was off fighting some sort of space danger, or something. They hadn't spoken in a couple of weeks, actually. Jessica made a mental note to call her, but knew that for now, she was out of the question to stay with, at least. It was then when the sky above her gave a groan, and a few drops of water splattered against her mask.

"This is exactly the kind of shit I need night now," she said, picking up her boxes from where she had placed them on the sidewalk. She scanned the buildings around her, her now former neighborhood, and knew the closest person that she could stay with. The rain opened up a bit more, a steady beat of rain down on her. She could feel the structural integrity of the boxes she held begin to go. She groaned, disgusted with her choice, and began running in the direction of the closest safe and dry place that she could think of.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Clint was awoken by a high-pitched buzzing in his ear. He sat upright on his couch, looking around his apartment in a frantic haste. It was then that he realized the noise was only the combination of a busted hearing aid and the door buzzer.

"I'm coming," he said to no one as he rose off the couch, feeling his way to the door and the buzzer in the dark, fumbling with his earpiece as he went. He couldn't get the sound to stop, even when the buzzer stopped buzzing, and he eventually just pulled the thing out of his ear. As he did, it slipped from his fingers and fell to the dark floor. "Aw, aid," he said. He heard the buzzer again, this time much more faintly, only the minutest inkling of a sound, but it was there.

Clint pushed the button and spoke into the receiver. "Uh, hello?" he asked, a finger in his ear, trying to adjust to the feeling of emptiness the lack of hearing aid now felt like.

"Clint, it's Jessica." Clint pushed his head closer to the speaker, and pressed the button again.

"I can't hear you, I lost the damn aid, just come on up." He let go of the buzzer, and after a thought, pressed it again. "If you're a bad guy, don't, actually." Then he pressed the button next to the one on the buzzer, ringing the person in. He then felt along the wall for the light switch. It wasn't long before he found it and, immediately after, the hearing aid on the ground. Under inspection, he could see that it was simply turned up to its highest setting and was almost out of batteries. He turned it down and adjusted it on his ear.

Once it was in his ear, he could hear that someone was behind him. He turned, ready to face whoever it was, whether it was a friend or a supervillain or one of those tracksuit mobsters who wouldn't leave him alone.

But he wasn't ready for Jessica Drew, his ex-girlfriend and super powered Avenger Spider Woman, standing in his doorway, soaking wet in her costume, holding two sagging cardboard boxes and a look of desperation on her face. "Clint," she said, her voice coming quietly even though Clint's hearing aid was now well-adjusted. "I need a place to stay for the night. Can I?"

Clint, still not completely awake and a little confused by the situation, just nodded, gesturing toward the interior of his apartment. Jessica gave him an uneasy smile and entered, and he closed the door behind her, wondering if his aid was buzzing or if that was just his brain, now.

_A/N: This fic is going to loosely branch off from the new Hawkeye series, obviously after #19. Other than that, there probably won't be too many similarities to the comics. Additionally, I'm not deaf, and I cannot speak from any experience other than interaction with those who are deaf when writing about Clint himself. If anything seems out of the ordinary or contrary to actual experience in regard to his hearing loss, please do let me know!_


	2. Chapter 2

Jessica sat up with a jolt. It was dark all around her, and she didn't recognize the couch she was sleeping on. She didn't recognize the clothes she was wearing. She didn't recognize the smell of burning bad coffee coming from somewhere nearby. She rose, in the plain gray t-shirt and black sweatpants which seemed familiar but she knew were not hers, and crept to the door of light on the other side of the room. It opened up into a small kitchen, which was only slightly dirty. She could get over that, though, because she wasn't known for being the cleanest, anyway.

It was when she head a _crash_ and the words "Aw, mug…" that she knew exactly where she was.

"Clint?" she called, the memories of the night before suddenly rushing back to her. No one called a reply, so she walked around the island to the coffee pot. It was almost full, but after searching around in the cabinets near it, she wasn't able to find any mugs for it. When she turned around, Clint was at the sink, washing his hands. "Clint," said Jessica again, coming up closer to him. He still didn't seem to notice her, and finally she put her hand on his shoulder.

Clint jumped, turning in the air, pinning her arm down to the counter. In response, Jessica brought her leg up and caught him in the back of the head during his downswing, knocking him to the floor. "What the hell, Clint, I told you I was there," Jessica said, bare foot placed firmly at the top of his back.

"Uncle," he said, squirming beneath her. She sighed and reached down, helping him up. It was then that she noticed that he wasn't wearing his hearing aid. She sighed and tried to reach back into her knowledge of sign language. _Good morning_, she signed, her fingers fumbling through the motions. _What – happen – you_

Clint looked at her, an eyebrow raised, and his palms open. He shrugged. That was when Jessica remembered that in her Hydra training, she had learned British Sign Language, not American Sign Language, and there was no way that Clint would have any idea what she was trying to articulate. She shook her head.

"I broke my mug," said Clint, just trying to explain things with their one-way communication. "I was getting dressed and it was on the dresser and I knocked it over. It was my only mug, since I broke the other one. It was actually Kate's mug, now that I think of it. She's going to be pissed."

Jessica almost replied with a remark, calling him stupid for just having two mugs in the first place, or for being more worried about Kate than her, who was right there in front of him and needed something to drink coffee out of. Then, she realized that this man didn't really need that right now. He only had two mugs because he only ever _needed_ two mugs, and hey, she didn't have any mugs. He was worried about Kate because Kate was his partner, of sorts, and she was around a hell of a lot more than Jessica was, even when they were dating. And what did he care whether or not she had something to drink coffee from? It was nice of him to even put her up for the night.

She said none of this, but just gave him a smile. He turned back to washing his hands, still talking. "My hearing aid's out of batteries, and I don't have any spares. I can't hear anything right now, Jessica, so sorry for jumping."

Jessica didn't say anything, just watched as Clint dried his hands and turned back to her. "I threw your clothes in the dryer last night, but the washing machines are in the basement," he said. "I'm going to get some more batteries so we can talk like civilized people instead of just attacking each other like, well, I guess like superheroes do." He picked up his keys from the counter and left through the door on the other side of the kitchen. Jessica sighed and leaned against the counter.

Clint had lost his partner, his dog, his mug, and his hearing, and she was coming to him, whining that she had lost her apartment, a place where she had stayed maybe five times. Better than that, she was ready to bitch him out at the slightest impulse after he had let her into his house, to stay with him when she needed it most.

"Oh God," she whispered to herself, realizing what was happening. "I'm—I'm a dick."

She lifted her head and saw Clint standing in front of her. "Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed, jumping a bit. "I thought you went to get batteries!" Then she realized that he couldn't hear her exclamation and she shrunk just a bit.

"I forgot my wallet," said Clint. He picked it up off of the counter, where it had been placed right next to the keys he had grabbed just a few moments before. He gave her a little grin and popped out the door once again.

Jessica sighed and looked down at herself. She was wearing Clint's clothes. She hadn't woken up in Clint's clothes since…

She shook those memories out of her head and went to the door, carefully propping it open with a magazine from the counter. She guessed it was Kate's, because it was about some celebrity gossip, and it was a couple of months old. Then, Jessica descended the stairs, working her way to the basement.

She wasn't alone in the laundry room. An older man stood at the table, folding a pile of clothes while the washing machine rattled on next to him. "G'morning," he said when he saw her enter.

"Morning," she said absentmindedly, going to the dryer. The machine was empty. She turned to the man. "Hey, were there clothes in here? I got caught in the rain last night, and—"

"That would be these," he said, holding up one of her T-shirts, which he was currently folding. It was a faded Stark Industries shirt Tony had given her a while ago. "I saw them in the dryer and figured why not, I might as well fold them, I've got nothing better to do."

"Wow," said Jessica. She moved next to him and started folding her clothes as well. "That's—really nice of you, thank you."

"Don't mention it," he said, and they continued to fold in silence for a moment. Then, he spoke again: "You're a friend of Hawguy's, right?"

"Uh, yeah," said Jessica, a little amused by the man's pronunciation of Clint's name, and a little off put by referring to him as her friend for the first time in a long while. "Yeah, I am." She put the pair of jeans on the top of the stack and picked up a sweatshirt.

"Well, you didn't hear it from me, but that fella's been going through some rough stuff lately," he said. "He's awful nice to us here, and I just—we want to make sure he is doing okay." He put down the T-shirt he was working on. "I think it's good that you're staying with him. A little more human contact and interaction'll be good for him, I think."

Jessica reached for more clothes to be folded, but there were none. Her clothes were stacked in two neat piles, the pile that the man had folded admittedly neater than hers. The man slapped his hands across each other, like he was brushing off dust. "It's real good of you," he said. He then turned and mounted the stairs, going back to his apartment.

Jessica scooped up the two stacks of clothes and started up the stairs herself. The man was _worried_ about Clint, and Jessica wasn't sure if she should be, too. He had been going through some rough stuff, but he was tough and had gone through tough stuff before. Maybe, though, he did need someone around. Maybe, she thought, as she faced the door to his apartment, that someone should be her.


	3. Chapter 3

Jessica came out of the bathroom, clean from a shower and wearing her own clothes, using a Q-tip to clean out her ear. Clint was sitting on the couch in the living room watching TV. "So you got the batteries," she said.

"Yeah, I did," said Clint. "And you got your laundry."

"Yep," said Jessica, tossing the cotton swab down into the kitchen trash on her way through. She shook out her hair. "And I was talking to this old guy down there—he was really nice."

"Most of the people here are," said Clint. Jessica plopped down on the couch next to him. She could see now that he was watching reruns of _Wheel of Fortune_ with the closed captioning on.

"And I don't want to be a burden on you," Jessica continued, talking to Clint but not really making eye contact, instead opting to watch Vanna as she tapped letters on the board. "But I do need a place to stay."

Clint didn't reply for a moment, and Jessica wondered if he hadn't heard her. The contestant on the TV spun the wheel again, and she opened her mouth to repeat herself, but Clint spoke. "Jess, I don't want you to live with me." He scratched his forehead. "I mean, I want to help you, but with our history and stuff, I don't think it would be a good idea for you to move in with me."

"That's not what I'm saying," said Jessica, taking her eyes away from the TV to look at Clint. She could see small bruises on his face, neck, and arms, and the little device nestled in his ear. The scruff on his face left her wondering if he _had_ looked at himself that much since Kate had left. "I've got nowhere to go," she continued, "and I'm going to _keep_ having nowhere to go, unless I live somewhere where people understand why I forget to pay the rent for a month or two."

Clint didn't reply. Jessica watched the muscles in his jaw tense.

"What I'm asking is, can I rent something from you?" Clint turned from the TV to her for the first time during the conversation. In the glow of the winner being shown their dream vacation, Jessica could see clearly the toll that had been taken on his face, both physically and emotionally. There were hollows under his eyes, almost the color of his old uniform, the outrageous one that the whole team had made fun of, although they remembered fondly. She remembered when she would have done anything to be able to wake up looking into that face, a face so much fresher than it was now, and yet…

"I think I have a spot for you," said Clint, finally, speaking slowly, with carefully chosen words. "A—resident—recently… passed away. And, I guess, that means his apartment is open. I never really found out about that. I mean, I spoke to his family at the funeral, but…"

Now his eyes gained a little glimmer, and Jessica shifted herself, suddenly very uncomfortable. "I'm so sorry," she said, and realized that it was an idiotic thing to say, and therefore she was an idiot for even saying it.

"There's a spot for you," said Clint, hiding behind his continued words, not letting the sadness take him over. "I'll look for some paperwork or whatever." He sighed. "I still don't know what it means to run this building, or how to do it."

"Did you get any info from the previous owner?" asked Jessica, trying to steer the conversation away from Clint's dead friend. "Like, records and stuff?" She realized that she didn't know anything about running an apartment building, either.

"The transaction wasn't really that smooth," said Clint. "Or, for that matter, a real transaction at all." He rubbed at his eyes. "I gave them money and told them I was taking it."

"Who?"

"The bros," said Clint. Jessica supposed that she was meant to know what this meant already. She supposed he didn't mean his male Avenger cohorts. "It doesn't matter. But there's a spot for you, I just have to talk with Grills's family or something." He dropped his hands into his lap. "Until then, you can stay with me, I guess. Or, I don't know."

"Thank you," said Jessica. She watched someone monumentally screw themselves over, not knowing that "_UC_ BILLE_ _LAT_US" was "duck billed platypus" on the TV. "I know we have a past, but we're adults, and we're Avengers. I just want us to be okay, especially if I'm lucky enough to live here." She gave him a smile, and put her hand on his thigh. A light squeeze to show that she was there for him.

"Jess," he said. He stopped talking for a moment. "Yeah." He smiled. "That sounds great."

Jessica smiled back at him. She felt a certain warmth about the whole situation, and relaxed into the couch a bit. "There's one thing, though," she said, tone lowering a bit to show that she was serious about this one. "I'm going to get you some new God damn mugs, because I honestly don't think either one of us is going to survive without some coffee." And they both smiled this time.


	4. Chapter 4

Spider Woman swung her leg around into the man with the ski mask, connecting with him just at the bottom of his Ribs and sending him backward into the bank counter. She whipped around and used a venom blast to the back of the neck to incapacitate another of the goons. Hawkeye jumped and slid over the counter. He met with another masked man on the other side, who was scooping bills from a safe into a duffel bag. Hawkeye punched him in the face, square on the nose.

"Don't you think," said Spider Woman, untying some hostages who were tied at the wrists to a standing table, "that this is a little small time for us?" She finished with the knot and the people who were bound there fled through the front doors of the bank. "I mean, we've fought off alien invasions, but we're still doing bank robberies? Wouldn't this be more suited for the cops?"

Hawkeye pulled the two now unconscious men from behind the counter and slumped them over the surface, then walked around through the door. He pulled them down and brought them over to the other thugs Spider Woman was tying up. "I think that this is just as important," said Hawkeye. "Protecting people, either way, isn't it?" He gathered up the guns that the robbers had held before they were disarmed and placed them in a small pile on one of the bank desks.

The bank manager came over to them, a nervous smile on his face. "Thank you," he said, turning back and forth between them, trying to face them both at once. "I'm just… thank you so much for what you've done!"

"Don't worry about it," said Hawkeye, smiling at the man and shaking his hand. He gave a firm handshake, despite the fact that the man was slack in his grip and trembling a little. "We're Avengers—we're just doing our job."

Spider Woman took his hand next, giving a slightly gentler shake. "You two can come in here anytime, I tell you, and if you want to open up accounts, I'll give you the best interest we've got!" He grinned, the corner of his mouth twitching with nerves. "It's not that much, I know, but it's all I am really authorized to do right now…"

"That won't be necessary," said Spider Woman. "Your gratitude is more than enough." She looked to Hawkeye, who gave her a smile and a shrug.

The man blubbered some more thanks, and Hawkeye and Spider Woman were able to slip out of his grasps and through the front of the bank into the sunny afternoon outside. There was a little crowd assembled on the sidewalk, waiting for them, and the police had arrived. They came to the superheroes on the steps. "We rounded them up, officers," said Hawkeye. "The weapons are put away to the side, and the perpetrators themselves are tied up near the counter. You'll see them."

"They didn't take any cash out of the premises," said Spider Woman, picking up where Hawkeye had left off. "It's all there behind the counter. The bank manager's inside, he'll show it to you."

"Thank you," said one of the officers. She nodded her cap to the two heroes. "We were tied up in a car collision a couple of blocks away and had a hard time getting here in time. You really saved the day here." She gave another smile, and led the other officers into the bank, while another pushed some of the crowd back, setting up crime scene tape.

Spider Woman and Hawkeye ducked under the tape, and they were instantly mobbed by the crowd that was amassed. They all were recanting their gratitude to the heroes for what they did, for saving them. One or two of them were crying, full of gratitude but still shaken from the experience as a hostage. "It's alright, it's going to be okay," said Spider Woman, smiling to the crowd. She didn't like it, didn't like being mobbed by people like this, but they were grateful to her, and she hid her discomfort. She wasn't used to this sort of reception; most of her work had always been covert.

Hawkeye was speaking with a crying woman, who held a small child in her arms. "Listen," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder, "I know that being a hostage isn't an ordinary thing, and it's terrifying. I know a good guy to talk to, he might be able to help you out." He felt around on his person until he found a crushed business card, which he handed to the woman. She read it as he kept speaking. "He'll help you feel safe again."

"I do feel safe already," she said, pocketing the card, "because I have people like you watching over me." She cradled her child in one arm and gave Hawkeye a large one-armed hug. His arms stuck out at first, but then wrapped around her, giving her support. When he let her go, her tears had stopped.

"Come on, Hawkeye," said Spider Woman. "Let's get out of here. I'm hungry."

"Yeah," said Hawkeye. "Sorry guys, be we have to go." He was addressing the small crowd. "If you have anything about the robbery you think needs to be said, please do stick around and talk with the police; they'll help you out."

The crowd let out a little cheer for the two of them, and they ran away from them, waving as they went. "Let's go up," said Spider Woman, and slowed so Hawkeye was in front of her, then grabbed ahold of his armpits, pulling him up into the sky. She noted that he felt a little lighter than the last time they had done this, but didn't say anything. They made their way upward, around a few buildings, and finally to the rooftop of Hawkeye's apartment building.

Clint pulled off his mask, and stuffed it into a side pocket in his quiver. He took his bow off of his back, where it was slung by his bowstring, and held it in his hands. Jessica peeled her mask from her face, pulling her hair through it, letting it hang back like a hood. "That was… nice," she said.

Clint unlocked the roof access door and opened it. "Yeah," he said. "It's good to help people. Locally."

"I mean, we help the world a lot. Like, saving the world is our job," said Jessica. "But it's been a while since… since we've done it so intimately." She followed Clint through the door and down the stairs. "Or, at least, I have."

"It lets people know that you still care." Clint smiled. A woman came down the hallway toward them, a shortish, bushy haired girl with glasses.

"Afternoon, Hawkeye," she said, nodding toward him.

"Hey, Kimberly," replied Clint, giving her a smile and a small wave. The woman passed, and Jessica watched her as she went into her room a little while down the hall.

"The people here are pretty friendly." They were going down stairs again, a flight or two, to Clint's apartment.

"They like it here," said Clint. "There's a reason I threw in my lot here."

"I mean, I know you're pretty liberal with your superhero name and everything, but what do these people think of living with an Avenger?" They had made it to Clint's apartment.

"They get a kick out of it," he said. He unlocked and opened the door. "They love it."

"Oh," said Jessica. She smiled to herself, cocking her head to the side. "Hm." She grabbed some clothes from the small stack of garments next to the couch and went to the bathroom to change, while Clint went to his bedroom, up the set of stairs.

She watched herself in the mirror as she pulled the skin-tight suit off of herself, feeling grimy from the sweat of the heist roundup. It wasn't a _hard_ job, but she had done something, she had helped people. And they had been really grateful, because the work that she and Clint had done had influenced them. They felt the effects of their work in their real lives.

With the costume off, she saw herself, just a woman, part spider, but a woman nonetheless. The people of this building knew Clint, even though he was Hawkeye. He made a connection with the people. Maybe she could make a connection with them, she thought as she dressed in civilian clothes, as Jessica Drew.


End file.
